How to travel whilst continuing to live in your own little bubble

Imagine a gap of about 1cm. That's how close I came to booking a particular hostel in Portugal. Luckily, I met a girl in Budapest who had been there previously and stopped me. She warned that it was a hot spot for other Australians who swarmed there for the cheap drugs and alcohol, a lot of times ending up sleeping together.

"New girls would check in every morning and within minutes they were being checked out by the other guys in the hostel, based on looks. If you have white skin and blonde hair you were pretty much in."

And then I realised I knew a few people who fit this category. Australians who go overseas and party hard with other Australians without actually taking in any of that country's history or culture. And then they say that they love traveling. No honey, you love partying. There's a difference.

The only part about their culture you know is the extent to which they're compromising theirs to satisfy tourists like you. I've met some people and told them that my parents are from The Philippines. Some of them talk about how it's such a beautiful place with nice people. Is it really? I've been there twice and never been to the tourist resorts. The Filipinos I know, including my own family live in poor conditions. The shower is a bucket of water you pour over yourself. A hot shower means boiling a separate pot of water and mixing it in. To flush a toilet you manually have to pour a few buckets of water down the toilet bowl. Going to school means hoping to God you have relatives overseas who can send you the money. Or studying your ass off to get by solely through the few scholarships that are offered. People are nice because they're making do with what little they have. Not because they're swimming around as happily in their beaches as you are. The rest are nice because it's the only way you'll give them money.

I'm all up for people who want to relax rather than sightsee - as long as they admit it. Nothing wrong with it, heck I went to Ibiza. Just don't try to act all haughty and cultured about it.

Love, Noeline
xox

From Budapest

Sorry for being MIA recently. In the past two weeks I've...
- Graduated with a diploma from my host university in Spain
- Moved out from the student residence into an apartment with three amazing housemates (who knew living with three boys would be cleaning than living with one other girl)
- Went out almost every night celebrating San Bernabe, a week long medieval festival in my town commemorating when they resisted French occupation, living off wine, bread and fish when all other food supplies were cut off
- Finished a two thousand five hundred word correspondence assignment for my uni in Sydney
- Bid farewell to all my closest friends in Spain as they head back home to their countries
- Started my three month holiday vacation around Europe, during which I will probably forget a lot of the Spanish I've spent the last six months learning.

I'm currently writing from my hostel in Budapest where luckily enough I've managed to find some Mexicans and a Colombian who I've been able to speak Spanish with. Score! So far I've learnt how to say 'no mames wey,' 'que chido,' and 'jodido.'

OK, I'm out!

Love, Noeline
xox

How to forget things

I’m somewhat good at forgetting things. You're probably wondering from what issue of Reader's Digest it was ever a good thing to be forgetful. But I like to think of it as a self-defence mechanism. A self-defence mechanism from the pain of remembering. Of remembering bad things that happened and good things that don’t exist anymore.

If I tell myself to forget something, most times I will forget it. And it’s a good feeling when, one day, I struggle to remember the thing I successfully forgot. I might see something, touch something, smell something. It’s stimulating me, and I know it’s supposed to be reminding me of something, but I don’t know what. All I know is that I’ve blocked it out for a reason.

I realise while writing this that what I do sounds pretty freaky, if not psychotic. But for anyone curious enough to know how it’s done, read on.

“It goes like this: first you establish a screening image. I used white noise, both audio and video: a field of violent static, filling my entire field of view; like a TV with no antenna, with a loud hissing wash of sound… Now think about the thing you want to forget - but as soon as it comes up in your mind, flip to your screening image. Focus on [it]; make it really loud and thick; don't let the thought underneath surface… Most likely the thing you want to forget will float back up into your head. Immediately flip to your screening image again, and hold it until you get distracted. It gets easier each time… it starts to become a habit. As soon as the thought starts to form in your head, you will find yourself reflexively flipping to the [screening image]. You will still need to exert a little willpower to keep the thought underneath from floating up, but… the static [image] instead comes pretty quickly.”
- Forum respondent on Meta Filter


“The trick to forgetting then is not to not think about it, but to give our mind a new path to follow.”
- Forum respondent on Meta Filter

Maybe strong people run away from things too.

Love, Noeline
xox

That awkward moment when you realise you were their second choice

"He came to see her, but her boyfriend was there, so he came after me instead"

"Funny that he’s kissing her because he’s been chasing after you all day"

"If he likes her why did he even bother kissing me? I know that if she wasn’t here he’d be with me right now"

"The next night my flatmate asked me 'So… what happened between you and him?' and I was like 'Yeah he's such a nice guy!' and then he was like 'He has a girlfriend you know. So maybe he's not that nice' "

Maybe that’s what people do, rank people. They take what they can get depending on whether their top preferences are (a) there at the present moment, (b) in the country or (c) with their partner.

Love, Noeline
xox

Brad VS Jen

I’m at the stage where a lot of people my age have had, or still are in long-term relationships. Being 21, a good number of these couples started out as high-school sweethearts. They’re either married, or talking about getting married. They’re either planning to have babies together, have already done so or are currently expecting.

And me? After almost five and a half years, I’m starting from zero. As I started picturing my life without him, I realised that he and I will forever be subjected to judgement by anyone who ever knew us on a scale of Brad Pitt VS Jennifer Aniston.

I was one of those people who thought it only happened in Hollywood, until I witnessed it for myself at a party recently. He walked into the room with his new partner, and heads turned towards Maria* who was standing at the other side of the room. "I feel so sorry for her," people said.

One person ends up marrying the next person they find, raising a beautiful family in a beautiful house.

The other one will have strings of failed relationships, usually with assholes, oftentimes into their thirties, and sometimes into their infertility. They’re the one people look at and think 'poor thing.' They’re the one people feel sorry for, the one people worry about. "Do you think she’ll ever find anyone else?" I don’t know.

But amidst everyone's assumptions, whose to say she's the unhappier one? People can be in a relationship and be unhappy too. No one ever congratulates you for being single and independent. No one admires people who have the strength to admit that they're not ready to settle down.

Love, Noeline
xox

Sad thing is...

“Sad thing is, you can still love someone and be wrong for them.”
— Elvis

Osama Bin Laden is dead. Now what?

The only thing that ended with Osama Bin Laden's death is just that - his life. He wasn't the last Islamic extremist.

It's like saying Christianity would end if the Pope were to be murdered. We'd just get another one.

"(The celebrations) are just like the so-called reports by American television of Muslims celebrating after September 11, this is just as bad"
- Kuranda Seyit, director of the Forum on Australia's Islamic Relations

Screen shots taken from news.com.au

What are butterflies in your stomach?

The first time it happened I was young, and all he had to do was put his arm around my waist. I felt dizzy in my stomach, but a nice kind of dizzy. Until then I never really knew what it meant to have butterflies in your stomach.

To this day, I still don’t know how to describe it with justice. It feels like melting. It’s like a feelings type of orgasm.

“Kiss me”
“No”
“Just kiss me, and if you don’t feel anything, I’ll leave you alone”
So we kissed, and I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t get the butterflies.

I’ve dated a few guys in my life, and the butterflies came with some, not with others. Since then, I’ve taken them as a physiological response to my subconscious. i.e. That despite what I tell myself, if I get the butterflies it’s because deep down inside I really (really, really, really) like him.

But that’s just me. It appears that people also get the butterflies in their stomach when they feel nervous.

“I get it more when I am nervous. Like before a big sports game. When I used to swim competitively I used to get it all the time.”

So whether you get them in the company of someone you like or during moments of nervousness – both reactions are a form of stress. When we’re stressed blood is redistributed towards our most important organs like the heart and muscles so as to give them more oxygen. But in order to do so, blood needs to move away from the less important organs like the stomach, and this is what gives off that butterfly feeling.

For those who don’t know, I’m single again for the first time in more than five years. I’m scared that all the failed relationships behind me, combined with the scientific knowledge of what butterflies actually are might cause me never to feel them again.

Ya veremos (We’ll see).

Love, Noeline
xox

Cuantos idiomas hablas?

Facebook wants to know how many languages I speak, but I don’t know how to answer that.

I was born in Australia but both my parents are from the Philippines, so Tagalog was my first language.

But then I went to preschool and after three months, I’ve been speaking English ever since.

I can still understand Tagalog but can only reply in English.

I can also understand Ilocano which is a dialect of the province in the Philippines where my mum is from. I can also only reply to that in English.

With that said, I can’t distinguish between Tagalog and Ilocano. I just know I’m hearing one or the other.

I studied Spanish for two years in university and am now living in Spain. I know enough to get around, but God rest my soul if someone tried to have a deep and meaningful conversation with me any time soon.

Also, Spain colonised The Philippines, so there are some similarities between Spanish and Tagalog. Like ‘puta,’ jaja.

Que sera sera

I feel like a kid in a candy store in terms of my life right now.
Oh the indecision of endless possibilities!